


Safe Harbour

by TheRealRedRaven



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Navy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bang Chan is a Sweetheart, Crying, Declarations Of Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Homecoming, Kissing, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Men Crying, Navy Officer Bang Chan, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunions, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21514555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealRedRaven/pseuds/TheRealRedRaven
Summary: All ships eventually return to their harbours, captains weary of the homebound journey.However, this time the sails come home with a novel anchor.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Reader
Kudos: 19





	Safe Harbour

War never changes.

Damage.

People pulled apart.

Entire existences gone to the rapture.

Bullet holes coated in crimson if not in brick.

And it is loud.

So incredibly loud.

Even when it is silent.

When it is over.

When he is home.

Caramel locks refuse to give up the fight that needs to be fought by heroes regardless of the mental burden. Steadfast in determination, they keep being sent out into a cruel messed-up world in spite of waking in cold sweat, bolting upright screaming out all which has to be bottled up within to secure a normal life. And if the nights are not full of terrors, the day only has to evoke the light in such a way irises zone out to recall lived horrors yet regarding them in a hopeless manner.

Frozen endlessly in the past.

Such is the cost of the life of a soldier. 

However, it is always a much-deserved reward when the festivities of homecoming are experienced once again. The tears are not those of anxiety nor sorrow but defined by joy and relief. Embraces are firmer, grounding into the reality of being able to live in peace at least one day more. Music is oppressed by the excess of voices all endeavouring to tell what has happened either here or on foreign soil, all tales clustering together in a giant buzzing unintelligible amalgamation.

Still, in the moving atmosphere, there are nervously moving toffee strands which have sent letters on a monthly - weekly, if lucky - basis for the past seven months. Or, rather, six for there has not been a single word from the front in the past four weeks from the man moving in the crowd like an insecure puppy.

‘Officer! Officer Bang!’ Despite the immense density of voices, ears pick up the outcry of the title by a familiar one and directly start scanning the mass anxiously, afraid to have heard a ghost.

To make it easier for the fighter, a hand raises among the heads to act as a beacon. ‘Over here! Chris, I’m here!’

‘Y/N!’ Tears are on the brim of rolling over sharp cheeks as strong arms tear through the bodily wall to catch the woman who had to be left behind in an unbreakable embrace. ‘Y/N! God, I-’

‘It’s alright, big guy, you don’t have to say anything.’ Fingers clamp the navy blue fabric protecting the country by sea, clenching it as hard as possible to anchor the ship into the safe harbour as they have many times before. 

‘I’m so gl- glad I’m back. So- So happy yo- you’re here.’ The hug tightens, bodies pulled flush against one another, hearts trying to beat as one and to ensure this is the reality.

That we are not lovingly grabbing at ghosts.

Not thin air.

Or water. 

‘I know, dear, I know. Shh, it’s alright. I’m here, it’s over. You’re home.’ Fingertips run through neatly styled mocha locks, having missed the satiny sensation as they glide through them. The nose buries itself in the nape of the neck smelling of the cologne which was gifted before the last goodbye.

A piece of home.

A memory of a favourite. 

The world shrinks with every repeated gesture waiting for breath to be regathered, buzzing conversation falling away into silence as presences fade one by one. Sliver by sliver, the festive space is erased until all which is left is an officer and his long-time girlfriend.

Who are both finally where they belong again.

Home.

The door of which is opened with playful chastising when Chan’s breathing has become regular and the last stray tears are wiped away by a small thumb. ‘Why didn’t you send a letter lately? I was worried sick, you bloody moron.’

There is an undertone of severe truth in the cheery pitch for the days until the return began to be ruled by the deep-rooted worry of an unknown fellow soldier suddenly showing up at the door to bring grave news. Fortunately, that man has never come but that does nothing to lessen the slight wonder as to why there has been a hush in ink. 

‘I- I- I couldn’t.’ Choking on the last sobs before full recovery of composure, a vague unsatisfactory answer is given. Normally, the fighter is more open about the topic, always having provided a solid reason before. Bombings, undercover missions, non-cooperating government forces censoring every word in the country, be it those of the citizens or intruders.

But none of those examples applies to the current situation, the news which is anxiously watched when Chris is abroad not telling of such situations. So, if the obvious is not applicable, then what lies at the heart of the wordlessness? ‘How come?’

The plush bottom lip is caught between teeth, nibbled on as a sentence is mentally carefully composed though it comes out stumbling. ‘Because I... I did write one but... it felt impersonal and I, uhm...’ a sigh gives up proper articulation of a long explanation and gets down on one knee as one hand is held. ‘Will you marry me?’

The world stops spinning.

The throat is constricted.

No thoughts.

Or, rather, too many. 

Too many are racing at the sight of seeing the soldier crouching down and looking up with glistening earthly puppy eyes pleading to be loved as more than they have been. To draw harsher boundaries which mean more and never want to be crossed. 

To tie the last ends of all that has been floating until now.

‘Christopher, you-’ Nothing follows the name, all vocabulary is forgotten in an instant despite forming a proper response just a second ago. ‘Yes! Yes, I’d love to!’

A short tug brings the officer back to firm feet, strong arms scarred by fought battles wrapping around the waist and twirling a body which weighs nothing more than a feather in the fighter’s hold. All around sound loud cheers from voices that have listened in the perceived silence, rejoicing in a newly-bonded love of elated hearts.

Two entities bound by the matching rings on the wedding bed the year after, hands held between the sheets in innocence and sin.

While dreaming sweetly or facing a nightmare.

Over digital highways and in reality.

Difficulties they will share but it is enough to know for one to know the other is present.

Even if a third never comes. 


End file.
